The Last Dragoner: Origins
by ChaoticRetribution
Summary: An insight into Reis' troubled childhood and up to her coming of age. Prequel to The Last Dragoner. Chapter 12: Reis emerging from her draconic past.
1. Mysterious Origins

A chocobo-drawn carriage tumbled over on its side as bandits attacked in force. The yellow birds screeched and collapsed as poisoned arrows struck their backs, and the carriage guards fell down as they were shot dead along with their lord and lady.

'Come on boys, let's see what loot old noble has got,' a bandit shouted, tucking away his green-painted crossbow and wiping off the dirt and green dye he had used to hide himself.

'Yes! Some gold at last…and a chest full of gil! Let's party tonight!' one of the others whooped, heaving out a large, heavy-looking black chest, with some gold coins and necklaces balanced on top.

'There's a baby in there,' a female bandit said, 'Shouldn't we take her along as well? I pity her if she dies this young,'

'The world is tough, Miranda. Like it or not, death happens everywhere. I will not trouble myself or anybody here with the burden of taking care of a youngster,' the bandit leader growled, suppressing another protest from the female bowman. They went away in silence, lugging the chest and wearing their new jewelry.

A blue dragon approached the site of the wreckage, having smelled blood and meat. Opening the carriage, she saw…a wrecked interior, pierced by arrows, and a baby in a basket. A surge of minor pity passed through her millennia-year-old brain, causing the dragon to shed a single, silver tear. Picking up the basket, she took the baby away into the depths of a forest…

Three years had passed…The Lion War was still in full swing, lords fighting lords and knights fighting knights. Blood of thousands of soldiers were still being shed and populations were still terrorized by the onslaught of battle. There was not quite any peaceful location in the whole of Ivalice…

And yet the little girl grew. By the loving care of the dragon, she had grown into a sort of wild child; she had recognised the dragon as her mother. She helped her 'mother' to take care of her eggs; there were three or four on the ground, of which one she helped warm through the night when they slept.

One fateful day…

'A dragon! Oh, this is going to be such fun!' a hunter whispered to himself, pulling out an arrow and rubbing some green liquid onto the sharp steel tip. Drawing the bowstring, he took careful aim at the dragon…a split second later, the arrow soared through the air, finally embedding itself in the dragon's chest.

'Bulls eye!' the hunter yelled, punching the air in his success.

'Mama?' the little girl said, touching the dragon's body with her little hands, 'Mama?'

The dragon gave a pained response, moving its neck slightly to nuzzle the little girl on the neck. Her breathing was soft, and slow, and shallow…and finally nothing at all. The dragon had died. Its soul crystallized immediately, forming a silver glowing crystal in front of the girl, who touched it out of curiosity.

Thousands of years of knowledge rushed through the girl's mind, thousands of years of living thought, of being persecuted, of being hunted, of simply…living. She had inherited her 'mother's soul. Presently, one of the eggs—the one that she had warmed through every night that it had existed for—began to crack, emitting one shrill cry as the head of a hatchling poked its head through. Seeing the hunter approaching, the hatchling ran off into the forest, where it would live until the special someone would adopt it.

'Oh my God…Did I…Did I…cause this girl to lose her caretaker?' the hunter stuttered, the weight of the reality of what he had done beginning to weigh hard upon his soul.

The girl sobbed away on the dragon's still and cold mass, wailing occasionally and shuddering. She had lost her one and only friend and 'mother'.

'I will take care of her then…it is the best I can do in the place of my sin,' the hunter said, picking the girl up and cradling her in his rough, callused arms, 'I will call you Reis. Come, Reis, I will take you somewhere where you will be able to live in peace…'

_So was the young life of Reis Dular, orphaned while she was an infant, adopted by a dragon with a heart; orphaned yet again and adopted the same way. It was a pattern that would continue through her life; unknowing whether it were a curse or coincidence, the girl—and even when she was an adult—would lose and gain new loved ones as she went, never actually getting too close with any form of true love._

_The dragon's spirit that had instilled itself in her when she touched the crystal bonds her with all the other dragons; recognizing her as one of their own, they would let her pass unharmed through most dragon territories. Millenia of knowledge had also been passed through the crystal to her mind; this was the final blessing given by the dragon. It would give her unnaturally quick learning rates; having already known the basics of all skills and things through what the dragon had seen in its ancient life._

_This is one possible outlook to Reis' young life; similar to Romulus and Remus in Roman legends. Thrown away for death, adopted by a wild creature._


	2. Journal of the Hunter

_Midsummer Day, Year 1465 in the year of Glabados_

_Reis had grown up quite splendidly, if only a little sad. I guess it must have been the trauma of losing the dragon that she assumed was her mother when she was little. Even so, she had grown up in our family quite well, never crying the least bit, and never mentioning anything about her origins._

_Many a day she had spent outside talking to the animals that we have in our meadow. This is rather strange, of course, but I think she will grow out of it. She's only eight, after all… However, speaking of strange, I have seen her once outside talking to the old chocobo that we have tethered up near the old wooden fence, and it had been responding to her speech! It is highly unlikely, but still possible, that this girl may have the innate ability to speak to beasts. If it is so, I think it would be very useful to me—and for her as well, if I train her to follow in my footsteps._

_Alas, my wife thinks otherwise. She believes that the girl should not become a hunter at any rate, for reasons that are beyond my knowledge. For all I know, I have seen girls go into military academies to enlist as warriors for the lord, so why should this girl not be trained as a hunter? I think that it would be safer for her to become like me instead of enlisting with those soldiers. I don't like the looks of them…drunk, brawling maniacs during the night, unchivalrous bandits during the day. No, it's not the place for her, she would become like that within a matter of weeks._

_The purity of her mind amazes me. She has never once harmed a creature, not even the smallest of the birds. Once, a pig had knocked her over to the ground and into mud, but not once did she strike back or otherwise become angry; rather, she befriended the pig, riding it around the yard when it is clean. Quite extraordinary, really. Most children her age would be off in the forest doing things that only hunters should do; I think the hideous mortal sin is not for their innocent souls._

_Over the past week or so the weather had been beastly; even though this is near Lionel Castle's seaport, the heat and the sun had been enough to prevent me heading into the forest for extended periods of time. Young Reis is currently sick, but recovering at an amazingly high speed; she had been affected by a high fever accompanied by chicken pox. The hideous thought of that disease! It had rendered her beautiful face and skin unattractive for a week due to those loathsome black boils. I had told her not to pick at them in case she bursts a boil and is left with a scar there for the rest of her life. The fever is now receding; she had hit normally fatal ranges of temperature but recovered within two days._

_Many a time I had taken Reis to the beach for a swim; she swam like a fish when I taught her the first time. Graceful like a swan, quick as an eel in water. It was incredible to see a girl that young swim that fast—and also to do that within the first day of being taught. It was…as though St. Ajora herself had wished Reis to become so gifted in every field she learned._

_My wife had attempted to teach her various arts and crafts; painting, knitting, sewing, and the occasional cooking. It was quite strange to see an eight-year-old girl in the kitchen, preparing various dishes and washing vegetables, wielding a knife to deftly chop vegetables into precisely equal bite-sized chunks when asked to. I have never seen my wife so happy; she had wished for a girl of our own to take care of, to love, and to watch her grow…it was nearly as though it was a gift from God._

_In the arts of sewing she had a little difficulty with; no matter how hard she tried to push the needle through some rough cloth, say, hessian cloth, she would not be able to pierce it. On other cases, she did make some rather splendid pieces; I remember quite well the day when she presented to me a nicely-fitted woolen glove. I still wear it, for it fits so well that it permits all range of movement without encumbrance. Nevertheless, the young girl did prick herself quite badly on one occasion; not one tear did she shed when the bead of blood dropped on her lap._

_  
Painting was an entirely different affair; Reis tried to illustrate me with a wild boar on my shoulders; with a comical result that…well, no offence to her at any rate, but her picture of me appeared to be rather distorted, though by most standards quite fine. I think art school would be nice for her if she had a little more talent in that direction._

_With the war raging on, it is becoming quite difficult for me to communicate with my relatives outside of Lionel and Zaland. It has been months…no, years, since I read anything from my cousin Barry in the Lesalian Imperial Capital. I miss him, he used to be my best hunting partner…our hounds would wear down the chocobos or the boars, before Barry would incapacitate our prey with skilled shots to the limbs and I would deliver the finishing blow with an arrow. Oh, how I would like those golden days back._

_Yesterday, when we were listening to Archbishop Draclau…Reis did something quite awful. She had listened to the entire sermon in the church, however she said some rather blasphemous things; that St. Ajora was no more than a sinning liar and that the Glabados Church was a network of falsehood. Thank God that she was still under the age of innocence…the Archbishop simply laughed and told her that what she feels about it now would gradually disappear over time…I would certainly hope so, if she doesn't want to end up on the pyre with us liable to hanging for not keeping her in check._

_That would be all that I have to say for now, for the sun is setting quickly and I have not a gil to buy a candle. I wish I were more wealthy…possibly Reis could help me out of this by implementing some of her near-magical skills._

_Godspeed,_

_Travis Dular_


	3. Chronicles of the Cardinal

_March 15,Year 1467 in the year of Glabados_

_The girl that had previously accused St. Ajora two years ago was right. St. Ajora is not a saint…but merely a Lucavi. I, a loyal servant of the true Ajora, Altima, am striving to bring back the days when demons were the overlords of the world._

_The purity of this girl that I am talking about…disturbs me. While most other men and women would gladly accept the lies that the Church of Glabados compiles, this young girl—whom we are forced to accept as being innocent for she is under that crucial age, had slandered the true master of the world, calling her a 'liar' and a 'blasphemous heretic'. Clearly, this has to be stopped, so as to not impede the progress of the Lucavi in the reconquest of this world._

_I have personally issued an order for that girl to come to Lionel's church. Her name was Reis Dular, the daughter of a hunter south of Lionel, near the city of Warjilis. She had come into the church three weeks ago, apparently after having thrown out her negative feelings for Altima and the Lucavi, meekly accepting what words that I have told to her personally. I feel, however, a little uneasy; perhaps this girl in question had been instructed by her father to keep her personal feelings about religion to herself. This will have to be investigated to a later date._

_In the first week of her arrival she had turned most of our lesser male clergy into women-loving fiends; her beauty I cannot deny, it being sourced from God's very goodness. However I, as a Lucavi, cannot say so; I merely think of it as a coincidence. Pray, I hope that Altima herself had not listened to my thoughts. It would have been hazardous to my life, being in her inner circle of clergymen and one of high esteem. Still, it is worrisome to see the male clergy turning towards her with something other than the somber, serious look that they usually wear. This could be fatal to the resurrection of Altima, should they disagree with our ideals when she turns against us._

_Many a day have I seen her outside selling fine wares in the marketplaces of Lionel; clothing and cloth of the finest quality, and war garments of high durability. Quality I cannot deny myself, for I see use in this; if we purchase enough while she is in town, I believe that when the demons rise again we shall be outfitted with the finest of gear. Should she be turned to our side, we shall have a fine asset in our possession, disposable too, alas._

_A sad stare she had, one that would rank equal to Altima's beautiful icy gaze. Very few times had I seen her inside the church hall without that stern draconian look in her eyes, though her expression says otherwise. She must be hiding something in the depths of her mind…_

_Interrogations I have held with her, though not at all obvious to the young girl's mind; I have had these branded 'religious lessons' for the 'less believing', and I have extracted much valuable information after I had asked her over the past three weeks._

_One; the girl is the possessor of a Zodiac Stone; she had questioned me about any proof of God or St. Ajora ever existing, and I had shown her mine; she then showed me hers, smiling rather coldly, I might add. A kind of expression I like. Still, the stone would be a great asset to the Lucavi, for it holds another one of us that is locked away within the depths of the stone._

_Two; she is the beloved of one Beowulf Kadmus; purportedly an esteemed young temple knight in a guild of Lionel. Perhaps I can take over her mind and soul through him. If not, I will destroy both of them through any means possible; it is imperative that Ajora either has the two on her side or both of them shall be execrated._

_Three; I have felt the presence of another…living soul inside her soul. It is quite uncommon, possibly even unique—that one living person should have another soul embedded inside one's own. People commonly lay their hands on a defeated creature's soul crystal and that is all; either absorbing their knowledge or taking their life force, but never melding with the creature. This I will have to research more into._

_That would be all the things I can decipher from what information I have gathered of her. Perhaps I should speak to her peers and this Beowulf Kadmus. Maybe they can shed more light on her origins and her knowledge._

_It is known that this girl was illiterate when she had come into the Church, but for a miracle of Ajora! This girl-Reis Dular-had learned to read within a surprisingly short period of time, within three days she had learned enough to read the most complex of religious texts. She had become one of the most studious youths that I have seen; her being only ten if I have heard correctly from Travis Dular, her father. This worries me more; if she reads the dreaded Germonik Scriptures—the very history of our saint—our secrets would be blown to shreds. I have had it destroyed on a church bull; by a priest called Simon Pen Rakshu, I have had the last remaining copy obliterated._

_Concerning the romance affair between the temple knight Kadmus and Reis…This might become an entry point for an intrigue to see what other knowledge the girl possesses. I have sent an enthusiastic young priest called Edward Buremonda to investigate it; he appears to have a penchant for trying to separate the two love birds. Curse my tongue! I should not speak of love! My master is one of death and destruction and overrule, not one of love and peace._

_I have instructed Buremonda to conduct his mission effectively and efficiently; under the pain of death is he undertaking the mission. Should he be unable to extract 'necessary' information from her, he is to destroy both of them immediately upon failure, to dispose of all trace of anything ever happening on the spot. True, I have a few doubts about the honesty of young Buremonda, but on his fiery insistence I have relented. You had better not fail me, junior priest…_

_That is…possibly all that I have to say._

_By the word of St. Ajora,_

_Queklain Draclau_


	4. Memoirs of a Merchant

_June 22, Year 1468 in the year of Glabados_

_Reis is back in town! Finally, after three months of waiting… She is one of my regular suppliers of the finest scale mail, without which my business would have died away. Plate mail and leather doesn't exactly sell very well in this town, for reasons I don't know why. Maybe it's because the guards like something light and easy to wear, after all there isn't much violence in this town, being the holy capital and all, other than Murond._

_Something about her…makes me smile, although I see the cool, even cold and cynical personality within her eyes. Perhaps it was just her breathtaking beauty. Oh, damn, my wife has just struck me for writing that. But I cannot help it, it is simply a fact, the sight of those long sheets of golden blonde, the slim, willowy build, it was nearly angelic in a way. It is unbelievable how looks can deceive us, for when you see her in the forge you shall rub and rub away at your eyes._

_She strikes the metal so forcefully that it takes only a few strikes of her hammer to bend the scales of the mail to the required shape, where other ironsmiths would require several beatings and recorrections of the shape. It is…possibly a God-given gift to her that her hands are so dextrous and powerful despite their smooth and silky appearance. People in this town pay well for her work, and that includes me. Often I have to give her up to thirty thousand gil for one chest piece of scale; however that matters not to me as I make a profit of several thousand from that one. Blessed is she, for she provides the money that I require…quite uncomplaining too._

_Last month, she was visited by a fine young gentleman by the name of Beowulf Kadmus. I would assume that he would have been visiting for some armour or weapons, of which I am partially correct. He walked out of her rented space in the marketplace with a brand new, gold-trimmed two-handed bastard sword, bless him, the fortunate cadet! I have never seen such fine work anywhere, even from her herself! Furthermore, I swear I have seen him kiss her upon her white hands._

_Disturbingly, a fellow, I think it was a priest, was being questioned behind them by some town guards. One had to think quite hard to imagine what the priest could have done to instill anger in one of them; normally they were quite tolerant of all people, especially the clergy of the Church. He appeared to be rather distrustful a fellow; with pointed chin and narrow eyes, all his features exuding evil or chaos. I would not have trusted him with even one gil of mine if he wished to borrow money, let alone letting him into my merchants' guild._

_Ah, I certainly hope Reis doesn't wish to have romance any time soon. Even though she is only eleven, her lines of thought and logic are liken to one of those wise sages of old times. Wise, cool, calm, and most of all, understandable. If she is quite as mature as people perceive her to be, sooner or later those two would wed and there goes my source of money; gone in an instant. Alas, I have no right to prevent the two; most I can do is attempt to persuade Reis to resume her work._

_Archbishop Draclau had been recently ordained a Cardinal by the High Priest of Glabados; what a grand procession there was. Rose petals were strewn all over the cobblestone of the market square, the new cardinal walking over them with a choir following behind announcing his ordainment. Grand and attention-seeking, as usual, that's Draclau…_

_Ah, my new shipment of weapons. Let's see…fifteen two-handed broadswords, of which three are of Reis' work, a hundred halberds and lances, and…bless me! Is that an adamantine platemail? I have never seen one of these for years! And studded with diamonds…and is that Reis' signature at the bottom? The tiny dragon beneath a larger cross? Ah, yes, I must pay her half a million gil, there's a bill attached to this. Hah, I wouldn't care if I gave her three million for this piece of art…this would sell to Draclau for at least ten million. She's a gold mine, she is._

_With the economy of Ivalice strained to breaking limit under the war, I am beginning to see a change in people's spending patterns. Many are purchasing armour, and fine light weapons if necessary, aiming for effectiveness rather than style or looks. I have seen some shoddily made pieces by other ironsmiths, who, in their attempt to reduce costs of iron, have created them so thinly and quickly that when held under light pressure, they shatter. This is unacceptable. Soon I will have to get all my work from Reis, if she can handle it, for she is the only honest smith for miles around._

_Warjilis had been under naval siege by the Nanten, to be defeated by the Hokuten in a climactic battle out in the sea. Many youths are attempting to salvage the wrecks, risking life and limb to extract as much gil and as many weapons or armour pieces as they can carry. I would prefer them not to go…I miss my boy, Clarence, who had attempted that dangerous trip…he never returned alive._

_To a better world,_

_Merchant Lawrence_


	5. Priest's Papers

_December 31, Year 1469 in the year of Altima_

_I have been instructed by that good-for-nothing cardinal to tail a whore by the name of Reis Dular…a girl that I have once adored, but now I despise her for she loves me not. Draclau had told me to gather as much information about her as possible; his reasons I do not know, nor do I know his motives. Still, I shall follow his instructions faithfully, for he is a representative of Altima, who I believe is my true master._

_Beowulf Kadmus, the temple knight…he had gotten in my way when I tried to follow her into a clothes shop; curses are due to him! 'A perverse bastard' he had called me, when all I had done was look into her golden locks as she held up a blue silken skirt. I was forced to flee from the store as the cursed temple knight chased after me with his sword raised above his head. Another failure like that, and it would cost me my head. Cardinal Draclau does not forgive easily…_

_Within the church itself I could not maintain my observations; for she is now no longer under the age of innocence, and therefore also part of the nunnery. Men are not allowed into that section of the church, and I dare not venture like an intrepid fly into certain death; the penalty of a male priest entering the female halls are…too gruesome to be described._

_During the hours that I have spotted her away from the nunnery but still within the church, I find that she is greatly religious; hours upon hours she would spend in front of the lesser altar to God in the chapel; praying, listening for any responses, and praying again if none came. It was as though she were attached to the very spiritual world itself; understanding and speaking to souls we cannot see._

_Twelve she may be, but a hard-working metal smith she is when outside of the church. Toiling away tirelessly, without breaking even the least sweat, she would hammer thousands of sheets of metal in a single session at the forge; taboo as it is for most clergy, she is after all, not quite a nun. Just a student. Only a student. And will ever be a student._

_Curses upon her! She deals with a dirty merchant! One who multiplies money at the cost of others! This will prove useful to the cardinal, if he ever decides to get rid of her…_

_I find that her usually-cold stare had warmed a little; there was a little shadow of a smile playing about her lips…only if Beowulf was around. In fact, it would have been the reverse if I were the only one around. Her face would crumple in a frown, lips curving downward in disdain. I know not what makes her so…unappreciative of me. What is it about me that makes me so despicable?_

_The cold, chilling air of winter had further confined her to the living quarters of the church; seeing through walls is not my thing. And thus, I must make up an excuse to Draclau…It will be hard for me to do so, he is nearly omniscient. How he does this I will never know._

_Snow had built up outside, prohibiting all movement between buildings. I hate it when the snow builds up like this, it is the worst weather for espionage…all footsteps traceable, clear as a blot of ink on a sheet of pure white silk. I will have to postpone my… forays into the female half of the church. Some disturbing things I have seen in there…_

_The two lovers, Beowulf and Reis…they appear to share many things in common._

_One; both have been orphaned at some stage in their life; I have drawn a conclusion based on various meager pieces of information that I have been able to obtain, that Reis and Beowulf neither have their true parents. Reis' parents have been killed in a raid by bandits; I have obtained this from the chronicles of the city from years and years ago. Beowulf, on the other hand, had lost his parents in a more…chivalrous manner. His parents were respectable temple knights, who perished five years ago. He was left with a small fortune that the pair of warriors had left behind, and a modest-sized manor on the west coast of Lionel._

_Two; both are virtually self-sufficient. I have never seen any two youths support each other as they do; they work for their own survival, requiring little if any input of money or goods from anywhere. Reis had become a favourite of many merchants in the marketplace, of which I cannot venture into anymore due to a small 'argument' that I had with a guard. Maybe, it should be called aggressive negotiations…the burns that I had inflicted on his face still haven't healed…_

_That is all that I have time to summarise for today. Altima bless you,_

_Until the day that the thirteen rise again,_

_Charles Buremonda_


	6. Temple Knight's Notes

_September 21, Year 1471 in the year of Glabados_

_I've been most fortunate to have met Reis in the market square five years ago. She was…and I was…young, back then. Too young to understand romance as we know it now. _

_Ah, yes. Romance. The mere sight of those golden sheets of blonde floating in a breeze makes me long for her, the vision of her beautiful, angelic face is enough to make any man fall for her. Reis…is just perfect. She's intelligent, beautiful, and strong, and yet she is not arrogant or proud as some of the richer or better-brought up people are in this city. Humble like a lamb, and yet as powerful as a bear; as wise as an ancient sage and more beautiful than a dancer. If only there was some way to wipe that melancholy expression that broods upon her face…even in her smiles there is a tinge of unhappiness overturning those luscious red lips of hers._

_I have nearly graduated from the Military Academy of Lionel; for reasons I know not I am not to be transferred to the forefront of the war. Of that I thank Glabados with all my heart. It is fitting, as my thanks, that I serve as his templar, I think. I can't wait until that time, when I get my shiny new crystal armour instead of this dirty, rusty rubbish that the academy issues to so-called 'advanced sponsored students'. I would rather have a suit that Reis prepared over one of their best…_

_Speaking of Reis, she will go back home at the end of this week. Her time in Lionel to study under the direction of Cardinal Draclau is nearly over, and by Friday she will be asked to pack her valise and leave the city. Oh, how I will miss her…thank goodness that I have a holiday in October. She needs a break, too…with all the orders from that cursed old merchant flooding her lists of orders, she had little time to rest; by St. Ajora I will stop him if this continues. Reis worked night and day when she could, trying to fill out those overflowing requests, having only a few hours of sleep when she fell asleep on her feet in the forge. Of course the money's more than I will ever handle in three years, but she looked a mess. Her normally spotless dress was covered in soot and oil stains, and frayed at places where the blazing forge had made its mark on the silk; her eyes were bloodshot from the lack of sleep. I have never seen her so tired before…if only there was some way I could alleviate that poor soul of depravity…_

_That pest, Buremonda, the fool that calls himself the 'true disciple of Ajora'…will he never stop following me or Reis? Only last night I had to throw him out of a window in Reis' smithy; he had hidden behind the furnace. Of course, I needn't have done that; if I had kept him behind the furnace as Reis stepped up the heat, he would have been toasted—and good for his health, too. Maybe it would reshape that foul, beaked nose of his to a finer shape. Sure, he might be cooked after that, but it's only progress, after all._

_Hmm, speaking of progress…what did I learn today? Oh yes, the useful 'don't act'. If only I pulled that spell off on Buremonda behind the furnace as he crouched…oh, it would be so funny. I would have done that, if the church authorities would not punish me for assault on a cleric. Personally, I doubt his cleric-ness, for his appearance…does not convince me of any good existing within his soul. However, if the cardinal says that he is trustworthy, then I would rather agree with him than be tried for heresy or blasphemy._

_Reis had grown spectacularly. Her slim, willowy build had changed for the better; she was still lean, still tall, and still fit; but slightly more muscular and curvaceous. Of course, not quite as curved as a mother of ten or so, but still enough to draw attention on the streets. I had to walk alongside her on an alleyway to stop the resident thieves of Lionel from doing some dreadful deed against her on one night…I could sense their presence but they were afraid of me. Only God knows what might happen to her if I didn't…oh, maybe not. She did carry a gigantic two-handed katana with diamonds all down the edge at that time, I think. No sane person would try to take that…lest his brains be spilled out by the hard blade of that giant saber._

_Autumn is coming fast…the maple grove outside Lionel had laid down a thick matting of red and gold; during Reis' spare time (of the little she had on Sunday), we ventured into the grove. There I made that daring wish—I kissed her twice quickly on the cheeks, watched her cheeks blush gently pink, before I knelt down on the soft carpet of fallen leaves…oh, I will remember that for years to come… 'Reis, will you be my girlfriend?' I asked her; and the obvious reply…one of affirmation! 'Yes!' she will be my girlfriend. It is still too early to ask for marriage as yet, I suppose…_

_I think the bastard of a weapons merchant hated me after the two of us wore the same ring…his reasoning I know not. Stares of ice I can distinguish, however, as well as sharp words. He intends to separate me from her, that insane fool! Weapons and armour he may have, but to wield them I think not. Neither could he petrify like me; to stone he shall become if he attempts to break Reis away from me._

_Nightly visits to Reis' quarters I have made; naturally Reis lives in the church's female half, so I had to formulate a special plan. Reis had convinced the other nuns and female students not to tell Draclau about my visits; it would be dangerous…for her, and for me. We could've been convicted of adultery and be locked up behind prison bars for our lifetimes…or worse still, be excommunicated and shot dead by a team of archers. Loving words we have exchanged under the moonlight; kisses we have passed through the open window. She was…very warm, on the coldest of nights._

_Getting out of there was a different problem; by the time I have finished communicating with Reis, the sentries of the church patrol would have been up; I needed to sneak out again after the visit. Most nights it would be fine; once or twice the guards only saw a glimpse of my trailing cape, but that's perfectly fine. They're as smart as rocks are socially able._

_Time is getting late, and I must soon extinguish my candle to conform with the town curfew. A visit to Reis awaits…_

_Beowulf Kadmus_


	7. Dragoner's Diary

_February 15, Year 1472 in the year of Glabados_

_I cannot believe it._

_All these years…the people that I thought were my parents…had deceived me?_

_They had told me I was their daughter. A true daughter. A good daughter._

_And now I find a note on my father's desk. His apology for not telling me that I was an adopted child. _

_Many years I've spent with him, and with his wife. And they never told me once. Not one word, about my origins. Of course I kept quiet when my 'father' had given me one of his be-quiet-or-you-will-not-have-supper looks. I never questioned him…and he never told me. I feel so cheated. Deceived. My entire life shattered in one finding of that cruel note._

_I should be thankful to my fiancé for living to this day. Last week I was still at my 'father's house, packing my bags…when a band of robbers, of ruffians, came riding up to the door. I had no idea who they were. I simply heard…a bowstring, a scream, a loud thud, followed by my 'mother's squeal and another consecutive fall of a heavy object. I remember little from that day…all had happened too quickly. After my mother…had perished at the hands of those robbers…they ran after me. 'Give us pleasure,' some of the male ones said, while the single female robber just stood there and giggled. The horrible fools. The bastards._

_If Beowulf had not chanced by my home on that day, God knows what or where I would have been. Had he not shredded them to pieces as they pinned me to my bed, had he not petrified them where they stood—I had little hope of survival as I know it._

_Little I have to look forward to, save visiting Beowulf at Lionel. He had kindly offered me a place to stay in his quarters inside the Templar's barracks; for the house that I had lived in was not legally mine by church law, and therefore it was owned by the church. What is 'law'? A code of morals? A code of living? Someone's thought patterns? Or is it merely someone's attempt to control all?_

_A sack of five hundred thousand gil I have taken with me from my foster parents' home; they had squandered the near ten million that I have made during the years that I worked, day and night, for their so-called 'needs'. For once, my fears are confirmed. They are simply using me as a tool. A mere tool. Hmph…the thought of that nearly makes me sick. As if I wasn't sick enough already, bedridden due to the terrible wounds those fiends have inflicted upon my body. I could barely lift a finger, let alone lift a leg, and far less to walk. Curse those beasts to eternal hell!_

_Priest Buremonda had visited me in Beowulf's quarters…whether Beowulf allowed it or not, I would never know. However his mere presence is more than enough to make my blood boil over, and my wrath to escape the bonds of my control. He was fortunate enough that I was not strong enough to lift even a hand against his putrid face. Oh, if only I had the strength to do that…_

_Every morning and every night my beloved would come to my bedside, replacing the bandages that bound my injured leg and arms with fresh new ones, and he would wash me over with small amounts of water. Such care…I have not felt in years. Maybe never. I wish we could marry sooner…_

_Cardinal Draclau had become far colder to me since I left his guidance a year ago. His normally warm, cheerful outlook had changed for a stern, unforgiving stare, much unlike the Draclau I knew. What is going on with this world?_

_At night, Beowulf would often sleep on the same bed that I was in; considering that we were in the same room, it would have appeared quite normal for any templar inside the barracks, for some of them did hire women to sleep with them…ugh, the thought of some cheap, honourless whore sleeping with a man in high esteem with the church disgusts me. Enough with that. Beowulf caressed me through the night, running his large fingers through my hair. I've grown accustomed to that feeling…it's very nice and comforting. Of course, he dared not to approach any closer, for my limbs still had not healed fully. 'Broken bones' the priestesses said I had; I doubt that they would be after Sunday._

_Sooner or later Beowulf would become a fully trained Templar of Glabados…and I will, in four years' time, be able to wed him and we shall live in happiness forever…_

_An oath we have sworn to each other, under the knowledge of not a single priest, but a promise that we have bound ourselves onto our minds. 'Together we shall be—in life, as in death'. And truly we will be…for I truly love him, and I feel that the reverse is also true. Death will not separate us, and neither shall time nor space. Our love…shall break the boundaries of the universe wherever it seeks to part us._

_Over the past few hours I have recovered to a stage enough to allow me some movement; Beowulf had forbidden me to leave his room for fear that I should injure myself again in my infirm state. However, a few interesting things I have read from the bookshelves at his study table; a manual on how to 'be a black mage' and some simple instructions on 'Perfect Statues: how to make your own garden statues without chisels'. These are sure to be useful to me—as well as him._

_I cannot write any longer…the biting pain in my broken hand is returning, and I will have to end it here._

_Reis Dular_


	8. Exiled's Laments

_August 28, Year 1473 in the year of Glabados_

_My life had been shattered at the hands of one egotistic priest by the name of Charles Buremonda._

_He had cursed away my beloved to a form…shall we say, unfit for human sight…or at least, that's what she thinks. Reis. My beloved. Now a dragon. Yes, a dragon. I had ripped off one of his hands as soon as he completed the curse…I had arrived too late to save my fiancé._

_I don't know if the curse was reversible…I surely hope so. He's used a holy stone to cause that spell…that evil bastard! Most Templars of Lionel know that using those dreaded stones amplify magical attacks almost hundredfold. And that fool, Buremonda…I am not exactly certain if he meant to transform Reis permanently again or not; however, under any circumstances…he should know not to use that stone._

_I witnessed it happen. Reis' transformation. Her human form was totally obliterated. Obliterated. Nothing left of it whatsoever. Her long, thick sheets of blonde hair, the usual identifying feature of Reis…none of that left, not even a strand. And her finely-chiseled features upon creamy, soft skin…none of that either. He had totally destroyed her human form, flesh, skin, bones and all. Instead he leaves this dragon, purple in complexion of scales, crested with spikes of darkest ebony, and eyes of crimson. The exact opposite of what Reis was before—she was beautiful and graceful, now reduced to an ungainly and hideous beast. But whatever happens, I shall be with her. I shall be with her through life, as in death, not to be separated by anything in the universe itself. Even if she is a dragon, she is still my Reis. MY Reis. Nobody else's. Nobody shall touch a single scale on her while I am still alive. If only she was still around me. In her shame of having such a form, she had fled Lionel for a place I would never know exactly where._

_I had been faced with trial for my defense of Reis. Buremonda has accused me of attempted murder—lies! He had virtually murdered Reis…and he wasn't charged. I would hang myself for not defending her if I had a rope handy—and maybe Buremonda too, if I could get hold of him, but no! He's got his priests and he's turned my previously-loyal subordinates against me._

_Yes, I've got subordinates. I've risen to the rank of Commander in the short period of time that I have been with the Lionel Temple Knights. Scoundrels all, for having shown me a false face of loyalty. When I am reinstated, they shall fear my name as I petrify each of them in turn…_

_No chance of that now. Buremonda has virtually ensured that I will never return to any city in Ivalice. He's done the unforgivable accusation—and blast that Cardinal for going along with him! He's branded me a heretic—and I'm supposed to be hunting heretics; therefore I've got to kill myself if I were to keep my job. I would have thoroughly earned it…I've lost Reis—no, I've failed her. I've failed to defend her against that spell, for whatever it would do to me is better than the fate that Reis faces now. I would gladly exchange places with Reis—so that she can lead a full, happy life, and I a subservient dragon. I care not how I look—I'm now disheveled, dirty, with a threadbare jacket of animal skins; Reis' memoirs and belongings I carry with me, and that also includes the armour and sword she had made for me months ago. _

_Money I carry little of; that is, my own money. Reis had been kind enough to leave me three and a half hundred thousand gil, enough for me to seek her, however long it will take me. To the ends of the world I shall search for her, for my heart's yearning to see her face is greater than the bounds of the sky. Even if I only see her for a second at the moment of my death would be a welcome relief._

_Through hills and barren valleys I have ventured as of last month; not a single sign of Reis I have found, except for rather heavy dragon-claw shaped footprints in wet mud three days ago. Of course, they could be any dragon's tracks, not necessarily Reis's. I have sustained myself by hunting wild creatures for their hides and parts—a practice that I have loathed to do since I was small. But because no part of civilised Ivalice will take me in now, this is the only thing I can do while I search for any trace of my love._

_Ink and parchment that I have used to write this note of lament I have extracted from the wilderness; the ink I have taken from a squidlarkin that I have slain, and parchment I took from a dead panther that I skinned and tanned. Fighting them off is difficult, even for a templar like me—it is not fair when I am outnumbered five to one, and all the worse when I am in an open field. The only thought giving me energy, boosting my stamina as I fight is the single idea that Reis is out there somewhere, looking for me, as I look for her. Miles I will have to cover; that does not matter, for I have as many years in life as I have to look for her. Mountains I will have to scale; that matters not either, for I have enough endurance to climb it as she has endurance to survive. Rivers and seas I will cross, just as she has to cross oceans of fear and oppression. We are destined to one life, one death, and one ultimate fate._

_Whatever happens, Reis, I will be there for you. I will seek you. I will love you still, be you a dragon or restored to a woman of my dreams. Years or days, weeks or months, I will continue to look for you, in the hopes of loving you in the way I did before. Love by itself is not a good enough repayment for you, my Reis; if you ever find this note, let it be a reminder that I am there, ready to sacrifice my life for your need or even at your whim if you wish me to._

_I am uncertain if this you will ever see,_

_But let I say all the same,_

_I love you, Reis Dular, for the better or worse._

_Through life, as in death, I will love you._

_Beowulf Kadmus_


	9. Lady of the Lonely Land

Date unknown, time unknown. A coal mine.

I have once been a lady…but that is all a memory now. Stripped of my own flesh and blood, I have been cursed away to this wretched form of a leathery beast, to be hunted down like a dog by hunters. I know not if this etching will be read by anyone, or even if they were, if they will be heeded.

Patience and humility I have once known. But that cannot take place here. Day and night, every hour and minute of a day, I fend for my life, the hungry beasts and creatures, and the wealth-seeking human hunters searching for my hide and flesh. Hunt—or be hunted, that's all I know to do now. Love cannot take place here, in the cold and desolate mines. Why, I've had hunters stick painful arrows into my back when I've done as little as go in front of them. Is there something about my serpentine form that offends them?

Movement is cumbersome, and uncomfortable. My feet are still soft—or rather, I should say claw. The rocks and pebbles on the floor bite into my flesh as I tread the barren floors, the occasional scattered pickaxe stabbing deep when I go into the darker sections. How many hours I've spent down here I know not.

A memoir I have left with me; a stone, dusky in colour, a sign etched into its surface that I cannot comprehend now. It hangs around my neck, clicking against my scales each time I move. Memories it stashes into my mind every time I see it. Perhaps it is the only thing keeping me sane, the only thing reminding me of who I am. In fact, that is not enough—I barely know my own name, only that I have been once loved by a person now seeking me; the reason why I know this I know not.

Slabs of stone I have moved to let me sleep in peace and quiet; years I have taken to shift boulders and walls to where I wanted them. The miners grow increasingly worried about what I do; their faces display it when they notice that a large stone had moved so far. All the better; if they decide not to come near me, I won't be forced to eat them alive.

A frugal life it is, monotonous; day in, day out, there is a preoccupation with food in my mind for a reason I don't know; even if I don't feel hungry, there is still the urge…to kill, to eat, to devour and destroy. What causes it? Torture me, strike me, whip me—just free me from this torment. Rodents I am forced to eat, for there is no other food available; vile and foul as it tastes, it is the only nourishment I can have; lest I starve, I had better eat it.

Dark shadows follow me throughout the day, an ominous whistle of wind rushing through the tunnels as I explore the deeper coal seams for rats to consume. The occasional blast of light and noise I experience at times when I go down there; it's enough to send me back to the surface, scared right out of my mind. Something down there is after me—or what I have, little as it is.

The bitter taste of my own cold blood I have had; once when a goblin struck my tooth out, and often after that. I have suffered much in this cold and dank pit; struck by creatures, hunted by humans; if it were not for the little stone reminding me of who I am, I would have probably destroyed everything inside this quarry.

Pain bites at my leg now, for it is crushed by a hunter's mace. I will stop and rest here; I have also worn down one claw too much for my own good by writing this inscription.

Until the day that I hope to regain my former self,

A dragon.


	10. Colliery Carvings

_Date unknown, Time unknown_

_Goland Colliery, deepest floor._

_It would seem that I have met my fate at last. My fears are confirmed now. An archaic demon is after the stone that allows me to think, the stone that keeps me sane and knowing at the very least what I truly am. Here I sit, barricaded, blocking the entryway to this very room that I will soon think become my tomb. Here I sit, etching this, as the demon pounds on the stones that I have piled up, as he tries to knock my barrier with his minions._

_How many years has it been, since I have been cursed? I will never know, as I have lost track of it. Several years, at least. Several long, torturous years, hunted, persecuted, attacked in the dark, not allowed to rest or lower vigilance. Several violent, bloody years of killing to not be killed. Weeks and months of fear, of foreboding that I will not see to live another day—as if it matters now, for I have never seen the light of day in years. _

_It is as if…I have stayed down here to repent for my sins, sins that I don't even know if I did. If I even sinned. If I even did anything wrong. I don't know…and I probably will never know, until the time when God will call me to his judgment. Torture me, strike me, stab me, bleed me to death if you will—just liberate me from this sense of dread, this sense of fear, this sense of…I don't know what to say…_

_I sit here, waiting for my doom. I sit here, dreading the pain. I sit, reflecting on my life over these past years. Have I done something wrong, to deserve such a dreadful death? Have I done something wrong, defending myself, fighting for life every day, eating only mice and rats? Have I sinned, simply protecting my own life? In a world with no laws, no rules, no mercy? I have been merciful enough, not killing where other creatures would._

_Hours passed, and the demons continue their pounding of the stones. The occasional pebble would fall on my head, doing little more than annoy me. Still, I am grateful to be alive for so long. To be in here, protected by a wall of crumbling stones, it is like a death sentence; the crumbling of the rocks following the steady beat of time. You can hear the time…you can see it crumbling…you can see it moving, steadily, unwilling to budge back._

_I can see the swarthy, filthy face of a floating imp, its hateful single eye staring straight into mine own. Its visage I would like to bite out—and that I did. I spit out its horrible flesh, its horrible blood. Stinking, filthy, inedible masses of a once-living thing. I dare not touch it for fear that it may rise again from the dead; its demon master is just on the other side, pushing out more of them through the tiny gap he had punctured in the wall._

_Hundreds of them I have dispatched in the age that I have spent defending myself in this last bastion of my peace, of my life, of my existence. Mutilated and shredded, bloody, covered in their own flesh, I disposed of them in the corner; they reeked and stank, something that I wish I could get rid of. They stink of blood. Monster blood. Bad blood. My blood. I am…a monster…right now. A mere monster. Killing and destroying._

_I hear the voices of humans. Humans this far down in the colliery. This far down in the damp, dark hole that they themselves dug, a place where no miner would go. I am grateful; for it may mean my salvation, no matter how slim. The demon had broken a larger hole into the wall; now he is entering my chamber. I must defend myself. For my freedom. For my life. For existence of my soul and spirit. For the stone._

_A human approaches me as I write this last part of my memoir. He strokes me. I like that feeling…a feeling of care, how long ago I had felt it. It felt as though…I'm beginning to remember more of my past. Not much of it. Moments of love. Moments of caring. Moments where I was a human. This man reads my writing. He reads down until this very part that I write. He caresses my neck. I somehow…don't feel threatened. Not a single bit._

_He calls me 'Reis'. He says it's a 'name'. A name? What is it? He explains that it's something people are called. People. I'm a monster. He says that I'm a person too. I may have been, once. I don't know. He says that I was. He kisses me on the side of my head. I don't know if I should return it…but how? Am I beginning to remember more? From my past? A past that I don't know if I even had? He hugs me on my neck. He says that I have to go. Go where? 'Follow me' he says; I think I'll follow him. He's the only person that shows something other than anger or the will to kill me. I think I like him. There's an emotion that's stirring up in my heart, something that I can't recognise. I want to protect him. I want to be with him. I want to be close to him._

_I think I'll leave now._

_Reis Dular…or so the man says._


	11. Runic Inscriptions

_April 1, Year 1485 in the year of our lord Glabados,_

_I have finally seen the light of day again, after twelve years of being kept in a dark mine. The man who had showed no aggressive feelings towards me leads me from the entry. He didn't pull at my neck, no he did not, no. I follow him, willingly, knowing that he won't hurt me. I let him pat my head. He's gentle…he doesn't hurt me, not a bit. I let him ride on my back. The other humans around him just watch with large eyes. They speak, but I cannot understand their speech. Only this man that rides on me I can understand._

_I feel the urge to protect him…to be around him all the time. To live with him. Why? I do not know myself. Perhaps it's because he's the only one to show that he's not an enemy…in twelve years, as he told me. He says that I must go past the snowfields. And I will do so. If he says so. To the ends of the world I will take him, if he says so. I lick his face. He chuckles and tells me that he appreciates my affection. Affection? What's that?_

_A snow creature stands in my way. The humans pull their swords and try to beat down the purple bear-like thing with them. The creature just bends and breaks their swords, and knocks a blue human to the ground. He crawls away in pain. The bear-like animal moves towards me. I don't like this. He hits the human that shows no aggression._

_A rage that I've never felt before just flows through my flesh. I tear apart the bear-like creature's forelegs with a single blow from my tail, before I had its neck in between my teeth. I break it and throw the body to the ground, roasting it with a breath of fire. I help the humans to stand up, carefully placing my claw just above each so that they can pull themselves out of the deep snow. Sometimes I wonder…why can they be so weak at times?_

_The humans stopped next to a lake. They began to put up little structures shaped like domes, which they crawled into and slept in. Not my rider though. He climbed off my back, and said that I can rest for now. I lay down on the soft snow; it was nowhere as cold as the mine at the deepest floor. I noticed that my rider would not join the others; he wrapped himself in the cloth that he wears on his back and lay down next to me. _

_I woke up with a start in the middle of the night. My rider is shivering violently in the intense cold of the spring winds; I spread my wings and cover him with one. He strokes me on my head and I descend back into sleep. _

_Next morning, we traveled far from the snow-capped mountains where I was for years; I am glad to be able to leave the place. Now we were in a vast grassy plain, with a city in the distance; a vast city, with many humans leaving and coming. I don't like places with many humans. It makes me uneasy. I fear that they may try to kill me in numbers. Black mages are the worst; I remember quite distinctly, some time ago, in the caverns. One had charred my scales nearly black with an intense fire spell; I was in pain for weeks ahead. No, I am not going in there. But my rider says that I must; and if he says that I must, then I will go._

_He quarrels with the town guard. He wants to pass through, but the guard won't let him through. He points at me. My rider says that I am 'harmless' to humans, and that I am 'tame'. The guard shakes his head and my rider tells me that we must go around it. His fellow humans shrugged their shoulder and followed him, muttering things that I can't understand._

_The humans sit down halfway through the day, holding their stomachs in the way that they do when they are hungry. My rider tells me to find some chocobos. 'Chocobos'. What are they? He explains that they are fluffy yellow birds good to eat. Alright, I'll go find them._

_I bring back two dead chocobos. My rider thanks me and takes off its feathers. He then makes a fire and puts them above the fire. Why bother doing this? It's easy enough to eat them straight. My rider explains that humans must 'cook' their food before eating it. Such unnecessary things to do…_

_We continue walking. The sun goes down further, and it is growing dark. The human in blue points to a piece of land far from the shore, far into the sea; he says something I can't understand. My rider tells me that we have to go there. But not now, it is too dark to see anything. We stay here for tonight._

_I will write more when I get the chance,_

_Reis Dular._


	12. Polymorphosis

_April 2, Year 1485 in the year of our lord Glabados_

_It is the strangest day that I've experienced in nearly 12 years. Now I'm back up on two feet instead of four; and I find this very cumbersome indeed. Not only is it slower to travel like this, it's also extremely difficult for one used on four legs to balance on two. Also, my rider (or who used to do so) caresses the thing he calls 'hair' that floats in front of me, all over the place and is stuck to my head; he says it's beautiful golden 'blonde'. I see it as a pointless yellow obstruction to my vision; perhaps I can tie it back. I do feel the urge to remove it in a straightforward fashion; however, Beowulf says that I shouldn't._

_I no longer feel the constant urge to hunt, driven by the eternal hunger existent in my previous form; rather, I somewhat…am disgusted by the sense of having to eat so much before. I feel that there's no need to do so anymore; that it is not healthy to devour entire carcasses in one go. Like those rats that I used to consume daily by the hundred in the caverns…_

_My body is lighter as well with this transformation; I move rather freely now, without all the weight I had as a dragon. Still, it's not exactly the best thing for me to be that light; my movement is somewhat…jumpy as I am used to moving with plenty of weight and therefore requiring plenty of power to move. Ramza laughs every time I try to jump on a chocobo and end up leaping far above it. Not fair…I should be able to be just like everybody else…_

_At first, it feels strange to wear these new things…the clothes, I mean—I'm used to traveling around the place with nothing on, saves the time for putting them on. Besides, having nothing on means that nothing gets in your way. Now these clothes that Beowulf has given me—that's a different matter indeed. They're thick, flowing robes made of some sort of stiff-ish cloth. With a ring of metal to bind them at my waist._

_I've never used weapons before…but I get a feeling that I've used this blunt weapon, a brick of metal attached to a rod before; as though…I've used it for a long, long time. Like a favourite sword, as some of the warriors in my company say. But when I try to use it, it feels cumbersome and rather useless in my hand; it's nearly feather-light, and almost weak, brittle and soft to my touch. Beowulf hands me a dagger—this I will not use, definitely not. The blade bends when I run my finger along its blunt edge. No, no weapons will do for me…perhaps I will learn how to use them later._

_When we arrived at a pool of clear water, Beowulf asked me to wash, telling me that I was dirty. True, I was covered in quite a lot of mud after the battle in the swamp; Ramza commented quite liberally on how I broke a squire's blade with a strike from my fist; and how I broke his neck with a single kick delivered from the side. He says it's not ladylike; what do I care about that?_

_Now that I've gotten my long 'hair' washed, and also my skin, I rest myself against Beowulf's chest, easing my head against him. We gather around the campfire; all seem to be missing the number of people that we have lost in the battle of Nelveska. The strange steel thing that defended the place definitely wasn't friendly; we have lost five squires to him. Beowulf strokes my hair gently—I like this. I gently doze off to sleep in his arms…he's so caring. I haven't had a feeling of warmth like this for a long time; and I don't think it's the campfire._

_  
I think it's love…_


End file.
